


Ryan's Drafting Pencil

by HYPERFocused



Category: The O.C
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan build walls with the bricks of his life. Seth fills in the cracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ryan's Drafting Pencil

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Seth's Pink Eraser](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/47798) by Randomeliza. 



> Written 11/6/2008.  
> Spoilers: Hard to spoil a story set early in a now cancelled show.  
> Title, Author and URL of original story: [Seth's Pink Erase](http://randomeliza.livejournal.com/2649.html%22%22)r by [](http://randomeliza.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://randomeliza.livejournal.com/)**randomeliza** ,

Ryan's always liked building things. crafting makeshift blocks out of random bits of detritus, then stacking it perfectly, turning chaos into order. In his mind they were all walls and houses, sturdy and protective, even if people just saw cast aside bricks found at construction sites or useless wooden blocks he and Trey had scrounged at the local lumber yard.

His mother used to tell him to get his crap out of the living room, even though it was never really in the way until she kicked it over, ruining his little oasis of imagined stability and order.

It wasn't long before Ryan figured out that blocks weren't going to cut it. They were tossed aside or ruined far too easily. He learned about drafting and blueprints from watching This Old House, and soon starting drawing his dream homes instead. Those he could keep in his pocket, or stuck between the pages of his textbooks.

He dreamt about designing houses for real, but knew that it would never happen. At best he'd work construction, and come home exhausted, but just a little proud to see the structures he helped build rise.

Sandy and Kirsten changed all that, telling him he had options, he could do anything he wants. They both tried to steer him towards their own professions. Sandy with his talk of "lawyers help people, you know. And with your brains you could do such good in the world.", Kirsten encourages his already strong interest in her work, thrilled to finally have a son who might follow in her footsteps. Ryan guesses Seth made it clear that he didn't want to do either one a long time ago.

There's no doubt Seth wants to be a writer. When he talks, most of the time everything seems to come out at once, bubbling up before he can put it in order, let alone cull the less-wise bits from sticking around to bite him in the ass later - or immediately, for that matter.

Ryan wonders if he's any different on paper. Does it spill onto the page the same way? The same rambling, flowing, awkward and vague and sarcastic and funny strngs of words that make Ryan laugh, at least inside, and feel like he's finally come home. When Ryan can't say everything he needs to, Seth will be there to say it for him.

As a sort of exercise, Ryan sometimes imagines that he has drafted the blueprints for his dreams, envisioned his future in blue lines or colored patterns. He pretends that he can craft the perfect life for himself, preventing the destruction he used to think was a given in his future.

It's this vision that gives him the strength to call Seth on his hastily expelled words, the ones he knows he'd never have the guts to say first. He's so glad for Seth's lack of inner censor.

Ryan knocks on his door and hesitantly ducks his head in. He feels ridiculously bashful.

Ryan covers it with feigned amusement. He's leaning against the wall, smirking like Seth has just said all that aloud instead of in his head like he could have sworn he did.

"What's shakin', Snoopy?" Seth says, then covers his mouth like it betrayed him -- again. Ryan doesn't actually mind the Snoopy jibe. At least the cartoon dog always had his own house. "I mean Ryan. Of course I mean Ryan. You aren't really Snoopy, even though you'd make a heck of a Joe Cool. Anyway, not the point. " He pauses for breath. "What was the point?"

Ryan's ears turn pink for a brief second before he responds in almost stilted tones, "About what you said today..."

"This isn't about that thing I said to Mom and Dad about Marissa, is it? Because 'starting to look like an non-evil Dr. Destiny' is a compliment among people of my culture."

Ryan opens his mouth, pauses for a carefully measured breath, and then speaks quietly. "Seth, come on. Stop trying to distract me - you know what I'm talking about."

For a minute, Seth acts puzzled. "Actually, I'm not..."

"Seth."

Seth blushes then, and Ryan hates it. Hates that Seth might want to pretend he never said it, even worse -- pretend he never felt it. "It was a mistake. It just flew out before I could stop it."

Ryan moves toward him slowly, as unsure of himself as he's been about nearly everything since coming to stay with the Cohens. But it hasn't been that way with Seth for ages, and he knows -- thinks he knows -- it isn't that way for Seth anymore, either.

"Well... did you mean it, Seth?" Ryan moves into Seth's space, wanting to trust in it's safety, but still a little unsure Seth will support him in this, despite Seth's earlier blurted words. Ryan forces himself to talk, to fill in Seth's uncharacteristic silence.

"Mean it?" he replies absently. They fit together like a North facing wall and one that faces East. A study in contrasts: one has to force himself to talk while the other has to stifle himself to stay silent.

But Ryan seems to have gained in confidence as Seth has grown uncharacteristically quiet. "Tell me, Seth, " he murmurs as he steps closer, close enough to feel Seth's breath fluttering on his skin. "Did you mean it when you said you wanted to..." a brief hesitation, but Ryan pushes past it "...kiss me?"

Ryan practically hold his breath in anticipation of an answer he doesn't like, but it doesn't come. "Yes, Ryan, I did," Seth retorts almost angrily, but Ryan can recognize preventive defensiveness when he hears it, mixed with a little bit of embarrassment. "And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? We're closed!"

Ryan doesn't recognize the reference -- as usual -- but knows one must be in there somewhere. Seth's tendency to borrow other people's words is legendary. It's like his speeches are collages.

"Princess Bride reference. Miracle Max. Haven't I made you watch it yet?" Ryan waits for him to go on. "Whatever. Ryan, really, it was a..."

"You meant it, then."

"Yes, but I didn't..."

"You want to kiss me."

"Yeah, but, Ryan, I don't..."

"What if I let you?"

"Ryan, it came out wrong; I didn't mean to say it and oh, God, you didn't just say 'what if I let you' and then let me babble right through that, did you? You did. I am the world's biggest loser and I should totally lose any and all pimp daddy status I achieved with the whole Summer and Anna thing, although I don't think an actual pimp daddy would call himself a 'pimp daddy', so maybe I - oh, God, what are you doing?"

Ryan steels himself and moves across the final distance between them until his body is pressed up against Seth's. Seth is looking down at him in consternation. He needs to kiss away that confusion. He raises up a little bit for his mouth to be against Seth's, and almost before Ryan knows it Ryan is doing it, kissing Seth. It's like building a perfect tower, blocks interlocking with almost magical strength.

Then Ryan is pulling back and looking up at Seth's wide eyes, feeling happier than he can remember, although his voice when he speaks is gravelly and serious. "I'm letting you kiss me."

"Actually, I think I'm letting _you_ kiss _me_ ," Seth counters. Even now he has to say something flippant. He wouldn't be Seth if he thought before he spoke. But if he thought before he spoke, then they wouldn't be kissing.

It isn't that Ryan hadn't thought about it, wanting it pretty constantly from his first day there. He just didn't dare allow himself to believe it was possible to get everything he ever wanted.

"Well," Ryan says, pressing little kisses along Seth's jawline, "I would have let you kiss me if you had just shut up and done it."

 

Then Seth's arms are around him, a little nervously, until Ryan presses closer, pulling him in as tightly as paint on a wall. He likes the way Seth makes his life more colorful, more beautiful. Loving Seth is like building the best house ever. Seth is a sturdy wall to brace him, a window to his future, a roof to shield him from rain. It's like he's emotionally earthquake proof. That's what happens when you love, and are loved by, your best friend. Ryan's never felt so safe.  



End file.
